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We parked and took the stairs to the second floor. Ranger opened the door to Skoogie’s office, startling Miriam. She was at her desk, looking lost.
“I wasn’t sure you’d be here,” I said to Miriam.
“It turns out, the business doesn’t stop with death. There are contracts in place, and new deals in progress, and checks to write. It’s all very confusing, because I don’t seem to be working for anyone. I thought about leaving a message on the answering machine that Mr. Skoogie is dead and the agency is closed, but it felt irresponsible.”
“Did Mr. Skoogie have business partners?” I asked.
“He had joint ventures,” Miriam said. “It’s common practice for multiple production companies to participate in a project. As far as I know the agency was solely owned by Mr. Skoogie. I suppose someone will inherit it, but I can’t imagine it continuing without Mr. Skoogie.”
“We’re going to look around,” I said. “We won’t be long.”
“Take your time. It’s nice to have the company. It’s creepy being alone in here now.”
I took the desk, Ranger took the file cabinet, and we both came up empty.
“Nothing,” I said. “No missing files.”
“Did the police take anything out of the office?” I asked Miriam.
“No,” she said. “Not to my knowledge.”
“I’ve reviewed the security tape again,” Ranger said. “Skoogie entered the building with a messenger bag hung from his shoulder. I don’t see a messenger bag here. I also don’t see a computer on Skoogie’s desk.”
“He worked on a laptop,” Miriam said. “A MacBook Air. He carried it in his messenger bag. It was so he could work from home or on the road.”
“Did you back it up for him?” Ranger asked. “I didn’t see an external backup drive.”
“He was very private about those things,” Miriam said. “He might have used the cloud.”
“Was he on the road a lot?” I asked.
“When I first started working for him he would occasionally travel with a band. For the past year he’s been going to L.A., trying to sell a television show.”
“Do you know anything about the show?”
“Not really. I’ve never been involved in the creative side of the business. My title is ‘assistant to Mr. Skoogie,’ but I’m mostly just a receptionist, and I do a little bookkeeping. I know Victor was involved. And a Canadian company was interested in producing. I believe Mr. Skoogie was trying to find a second production company with deeper pockets. And on this last trip he scheduled a meeting with a woman from HBO. Mr. Skoogie was very excited about that. I don’t know how it turned out.”
“What about Ernie Sitz?” I asked. “Was he involved?”
“He was very involved in the beginning,” Miriam said, “but he developed some legal problems, and he disappeared. I heard a rumor that he was in South America.”
We left Miriam and returned to Ranger’s Porsche.
“Now what?” I said.
“Now we visit Skoogie’s condo.”
“Are we still looking for the missing files?”
“Missing files, missing computer, missing phone.”
“Maybe they’re all in the missing messenger bag,” I said. “And that probably was taken by whoever came up the back stairs and visited Skoogie before Waggle found him.”
* * *
¦ ¦ ¦
Leonard Skoogie lived in a budget-friendly five-story condo building north of the government complex. We took the elevator to the fourth floor, and as we walked down the hall, I wondered if any of his neighbors even knew of his passing. The building felt impersonal.
